


Carrying On

by CaithyCat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coda, Episode: s15e20 Carry On Coda, Fix-It, M/M, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaithyCat/pseuds/CaithyCat
Summary: Dean still gets impaled by a nail. But, he doesn't die.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 195





	Carrying On

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, never thought I'd be doing this. I haven't been active in the "Supernatural" fandom and only came back recently to watch the last few episodes. And the ending did not leave me happy and satisfied. I needed more. 
> 
> I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was upset and angry. Somehow, this became the product of that. And it was cathartic.

Dean knows he’s dying.

The warm blood running down his back and the excruciating burning pain somewhere near his spine only confirms that he got himself into a situation that he has no way out of. He’s been stabbed and burned so many times that he’s almost numb to the idea that he’s not long for this world.

A nail in the back.

What a fucking stupid way to die.

It’s not how he thought he would go but at least it’s a death he has control of. 

But, truth be told, he’s scared. There’s so much he still wants to do. So many monsters to slay. Places to see. New pie flavors he’s yet to try.

And Sam... Sam...

Even with his vision darkening, all he can see is Sam, his baby brother. The most precious and most important person in his life. His dorky, giant, book nerd of a brother.

Dean is so proud of him. Now, Sam can go wherever he wants and do whatever the hell he feels like without Dean holding him back. He should look for Eileen, she's good for him. 

He hopes Sam takes good care of Miracle, go on walks with her, and let her eat the leftovers off his plate. It’s funny how he and Sam always wanted a dog when they were kids but John wouldn’t let them. And now that they finally got one... now that they finally have some semblance of a normal life, Dean has to leave.

But, despite all that, he really has no regrets. 

He can be at peace now.

Well... he's got one regret. 

But, maybe… just maybe…

The thought leaves him as his eyes finally close and his mind blanks.

.

.

.

.

.

.

He’s not sure how long he’s been out for but there’s a whispering in his ear. Various voices he can’t name. What they’re saying, Dean can’t decipher. But, they’re there. They’re kind of annoying.

Is this hell?

God knows he doesn’t belong in heaven. But, then again, if Jack’s in charge now, maybe he’ll get special treatment.

Dean wants to laugh but finds himself unable to do so.

Is he allowed to laugh in hell?

He continues to stay in darkness with the whispers. He strains to hear what they’re saying but every time he thinks he’s caught a glimpse of a familiar word or phrase, it escapes him again.

He tries to think of other things, then. Brighter things.

Like Sam. And Miracle.

Bobby. Jodie. Charlie. Donna. Kevin. Claire. Ellen. Jo.

Crowley. Rowena. Heck, even Ruby and Meg cross his mind.

His mom. Dad, too. And, Adam, why the hell not? 

And…

Is this his special brand of hell? Boredom? It’s pretty effective.

Dean will do anything for a spot of entertainment.

And another thing about this weird state of nothingness is that he can’t feel anything. Not his hands and feet. He can’t even wiggle his toes or twitch his nose. He can’t smell anything, either. He can't talk. 

There are only the voices.

And they’re getting louder now.

“…octor says….. blood….”

How long has it been?

“…. Sam….”

What about Sam?

“…… wake up….”

Wake up from what? He’s dead.

“….. please….”

If Dean still has a beating start, it has surely stopped at hearing that voice.

That familiar, gravelly, pleading voice.

And, suddenly, he can _feel_.

Very light touches, at first.

Almost a whisper against his skin, if he even has any.

And, then, the pain followed.

It’s not the familiar burn of a stab.

More of a tightness of a wound after it’s been treated.

His wound has been treated.

Then, slivers of bright white light come peeking through the void.

Dean tries to squint and the light disappears again… and then reappears.

What the fuck?!

And, then, he feels, hears, and smells it all at once like a giant punch to the gut.

The pain of the wound on his back.

The voice talking.

A beeping.

The smell of antiseptic.

Fingers gently caressing his arm.

He can feel his arm.

He. Can. Feel.

Slowly, he uses all his strength to peel his eyes open. To finally see.

Blinding light momentarily forces him to close his eyes again.

“Dean?”

He’s pretty sure the pace his heart is beating right now is not good for his current condition.

He forces his eyes open again, slowly this time, so he can adjust to the light.

At first, everything looks blurry. He blinks a few times until things come to focus.

The familiar white walls of a hospital. A plastic chair. A closed door.

“Dean…”

Dean moves his gaze upwards.

Messy black hair. Ice blue eyes. The 5 o’clock shadow that never seems to go away.

And an ugly trench coat that never looks good on anyone but Cas always manages to pull off.

Cas.

Castiel.

He’s here.

“Y-You…” Dean tries but his voice refuses to cooperate.

Castiel smiles and it shoots an arrow right at Dean’s heart as he’s reminded of the last time he saw that smile.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Dean!” a new voice joins them.

Within seconds, Sam comes into view. He looks awful. The mop that he calls hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days. The dark circles under his eyes are even darker like he’s some kind of giant raccoon. And his clothes are the same ones he wore during their hunt.

The hunt. With the vampires and the clown masks and the missing kids.

The hunt where he died.

Or… almost died… right?

“S-Sam…” he manages.

“Don’t talk,” his brother says, coming to his side.

Castiel moves to make room for him and, for a moment, Dean panics.

If this is Hell’s way of torturing him… showing him his brother and Castiel and making him believe he’s alive only to take them all away again… damn them all.

The beeping sound he has been ignoring grows frantic as he tries to get up.

“Dean, no!” Sam pushes him back down and Dean realizes that he’s laid on his stomach.

That makes sense, he was stabbed in the back, after all.

“Lie back down, you shouldn’t try to get up yet. The doctor said you lost a lot of blood. And it’s a miracle you pulled through.”

Sam looks like he’s aged ten years as he sighs and occupies the empty chair next to the bed. “Can you not... do that again, please? I really can’t…”

Dean opens his mouth to answer but, again, his voice refuses to cooperate. And he’s tired again all of a sudden.

“It’s okay, you can go back to sleep,” Sam says, managing to smile at him.

Dean forces his voice out as his lids get heavy. “C-Cas…”

The angel comes into view again. “I’m here Dean. I’m not leaving. Get some rest.”

Dean loses the battle to his eyelids and closes his eyes. He feels himself drifting off and this time, the void of darkness no longer feels like hell. He doesn’t dream, though. And he’s scared again.

Scared that it’s not real.

He’s not sure if he’ll survive if it’s not real.

He’d rather die again.

.

.

.

.

.

The next time he wakes up, he’s less confused. Still a little suspicious. But upon seeing Castiel the moment he opens his eyes, he allows himself to hope that it’s all true.

He’s here. He’s still alive. And Castiel has returned to them. To him.

He’s still on his stomach and he struggles to move himself to a more comfortable position. He’s hooked to an I.V. and a few other wires, which is really annoying.

But, Castiel moves forward to help and Dean lets him.

“You shouldn’t be moving this much, yet,” the angel scolds, fondly.

Sam appears behind him with a cup of water and helps Dean drink.

He gulps it down, greedily. Water had never tasted as good as it did at that moment.

He drinks and drinks until he couldn’t anymore and Sam moves out of view again to put the cup away.

Dean focuses on Castiel.

“You’re here,” he finally says, his voice much better than it was the last time.

Castiel nods. “Yes, I am.”

“How did you…”

How did you get out of the Empty? Was there a way all along and they hadn’t known? Why didn't he back come sooner?

“Jack saved me,” Castiel answers. “He got me out. Took me to heaven.”

Of course, Jack did. He’s a good kid. Better than all of them.

There’s silence now. There’s a lot to say but Dean doesn’t know how to start. The last time they talked…

What little blood he had left rushes to his cheeks. He hopes Sam and Castiel don’t notice.

A throat clears and Sam comes into view again. “I’m gonna go get a coffee. Cas, you want one?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay. I’ll… uh… leave you two to catch up.”

Sam smiles at Dean, patting his leg before heading out of the room and shutting the door firmly behind him. 

Castiel settles on the empty chair, pulling it closer to Dean’s bed.

“Sam hasn’t slept,” he says, avoiding Dean’s eyes. “I told him I would watch you in his stead so he could return to the bunker but he refuses to do so. He only went once to make sure Miracle has enough food. You adopted a dog. She’s beautiful and so well-behaved-.”

“Cas,” Dean interrupts, happy to hear that Castiel likes his dog but there are important things he needs to say. “Did Sam call you?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, he didn’t.”

“But, how did you…”

“I heard you... Dean.” The angel finally makes eye contact. “You called for me and I heard you.”

Dean vaguely remembers thinking about Castiel before he fell unconscious. How he hoped that they would meet wherever he ended up. He knew, even back then, that it was a long shot.

Still… he had hoped.

Turns out that hope was well-placed.

“So… you saved me.”

To his surprise, Castiel shakes his head and lets out a chuckle. “No, the paramedics did. Sam called them as soon as I arrived after you lost consciousness.”

Dean blinks. “Oh.”

Less dramatic than he thought but, at least, for once, he wasn’t saved by some outside power he had no control over. Just by human beings. That’s fine.

Then, Castiel’s demeanor saddens. “You gave up so soon, Dean. We almost lost you.”

Dean really hates it when Castiel is upset. He’s like a puppy who got kicked. And who kicks puppies? Monsters, that’s who.

“Hey.” He wants to lift a hand to nudge the angel but his limbs feel too heavy so he just grins. “I’m alive. By some miracle, apparently.”

“Yes.”

Dean clears his throat. “About… the last time I saw you…”

Castiel quiets and looks away again.

Dean almost bites his tongue. But, then, he remembers how he didn’t have enough time to even sort out his thoughts the last time. He didn’t even get the chance to answer before Castiel was taken away.

“You said… that your happiness… is the one thing you can’t have.”

Castiel still refuses to look at him.

“Cas… what if… you can…?” Dean swallows the lump in his throat but forces his voice out. “Have it… I mean… You know…”

Finally, Castiel lifts his head up and meets his gaze, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His hands, firmly folded on his lap, reaches out to take Dean’s own.

“Thank you, Dean.” But, then, the smile disappears again. “But… I can’t.”

Dean’s heart drops to his stomach.

Did Castiel change his mind? Is it because Dean didn’t try to get him out of The Empty? Is he angry? Did Dean mess things up before they even started?

Castiel must have seen his face because he shakes his head, smiling again.

“Nothing has changed in how I feel about you,” he explains, squeezing Dean’s hand, comfortingly. “It’s just… I’m not human anymore, Dean. And I have responsibilities again.” His smile widens to that of a proud parent. “Jack is rebuilding Heaven. And I’m helping him. We’re going to get it back to the way it was always meant to be. A place for everyone to come and rest and be happy the way they deserve. But… Dean… It’s not your time to be there, yet.”

Dean protests. “But-.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Everything you did… everything you sacrificed… You saved the world. You and Sam. And you both deserve to see the fruits of your labor. You’re still needed here on Earth, Dean.”

“But… what about you?”

 _What about us?_ he wants to say.

The angel laughs. “Me? I’ll wait. Like I always do. It appears that I’m quite good at waiting when it comes to you.”

Dean’s heart skips a beat.

“But, don’t come up too soon. I mean it, Dean.”

He snorts, forcing himself to look away and seem nonchalant. “If you’re that mad about me dying too soon, fine.” He smirks. “Gotta play nice with God’s dad, right?”

Castiel laughs again. He tries to let go of Dean’s hand but Dean holds on, flashing him a look that he hopes says everything he can’t physically say, himself.

And, as always, Castiel understands and leaves their hands entwined.

Now that that’s out of the way, there’s another matter that’s niggling in the back of Dean’s mind.

So, he looks away again, focusing his gaze on the foot of his bed.

“How long are you here for?” he asks.

Castiel doesn’t answer, at first. Dean dreads the answer.

“Until you’re well enough to leave the hospital.”

A couple of days then. Maybe a week. Dean’s not sure. He should have asked Sam.

But, it’s more time than he ever hoped to have.

He’s not stupid enough to waste it.

He turns his gaze back to smile at Castiel again, reassuring the angel that he’s okay. He’s going to be okay.

“So… how’s Heaven looking?”

.

.

.

.

.

He ends up staying at the hospital for several weeks. And true to his word, Castiel doesn't leave. He’s there when Dean wakes up and still there when he goes to sleep. Sam is also there most of the time but now that Dean is awake and is, for sure, going to live, according to the doctors, he goes back to the bunker to make sure Miracle is fed, watered, and walked.

Meanwhile, Dean gets his bandages changed and his back poked and prodded by doctors and nurses. He gets physical therapy and regains control of his arms and legs again.

His recovery is unusually fast and miraculous, according to the hospital staff. Dean wonders if Castiel had anything to do with it but decided not to ask.

So, you’d think that when the doctor gives him the green light to go home, he’d be happy. And, he is, really. He can’t wait to leave.

He’s tired of hospital food. He’s tired of only seeing the four white walls of his room and, occasionally, the tiny hospital garden that Sam and Castiel would take him to when he was feeling bored.

But, when he leaves the hospital, Castiel also leaves.

Dean’s not sure if he’s ready.

But, time or fate or destiny or whatever doesn’t give a crap if he’s ready or not.

He’s now dressed in an old Led Zeppelin shirt, his green cargo jacket, and jeans. He’s wearing _jeans_! After weeks of only wearing an itchy hospital gown, it feels a little weird to be wearing real clothes again.

He fixes the cuff of his jacket. In front of him, Castiel stands in silence. Waiting for him.

Sam is down at the lobby, getting paperwork done so they can check out. He and Castiel had already said their goodbyes, giving each other tight hugs before parting.

Now, it’s Dean’s turn.

He’s not ready to say goodbye again.

When he lifts his head, Castiel is watching him in that close and examining way he often does. As if he’s taking a photo of Dean and imprinting it in his memory.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

 _No,_ Dean thinks.

Instead, he shrugs.

Castiel smiles softly and steps forward. He places a hand on Dean’s left shoulder and Dean can almost feel the remnants of that old handprint from when the angel first rescued him from the depths of hell.

It felt so long ago.

“Will you promise me one thing before I leave?” Castiel asks.

Dean places a hand over his, gripping it tightly. “Anything, Cas.”

Castiel continues to smile but there’s now a hint of sadness to it. “Live. Please. No matter how tempting it may be to die, just live. I want you to live.”

Dean nods. “Okay.” He means it.

The angel releases a breath of relief. “I will watch over you. Like I always do. Like I always have from the very beginning.”

He can feel the familiar sting of tears but refuses to let them fall. “Will you hear my prayers?”

Castiel doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Always.”

“Will you and Jack come by and have dinner with us sometimes?”

Castiel laughs, genuinely. “We’ll do our best.”

Dean lets out a chuckle and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Rebuilding Heaven is a busy job. But, nothing you two can’t handle. Can’t wait to see it.”

“Not-.”

“Not any time soon, got it.” He squeezes Castiel’s hand. “I promise.”

Satisfied, Castiel nods.

“Say ‘hi’ to the kid for us? And Bobby, too. Mom and Dad. Charlie.”

“All of them. I swear it.”

Castiel steps closer, his eyes focusing on Dean’s face. Dean, too, memorizes the angel's face. Takes a picture of it and saves it in his memory.

This angel who saved him. This angel who taught him to believe and have faith. This angel who loves him despite his faults and mistakes.

“I’ll miss you, man,” he confesses.

“As will I.”

With that, Castiel wraps his arms around him and Dean closes his eyes and doesn’t hesitate to return the hug. When he feels lips press to the side of his head, soft and affectionate, his heart swells with joy.

“Goodbye for now, Dean.”

“See you, Cas.”

When Dean opens his eyes, he’s holding nothing but air. The room is empty. Castiel is gone.

Yet, Dean has never felt such peace.

.

.

.

.

.

Miracle is running towards him, barking her head off. Laughing, Dean crouches down, carefully, and opens his arms to hold her.

“Hey, there, girl! You missed me? I missed you! Has Sammy been taking good care of you? I bet he doesn’t let you eat off the pans, does he? Don’t worry, things are gonna be back to normal now.”

Behind him, Sam snorts. “You spoil her you know! She wouldn’t leave me alone when I was doing the dishes!”

Dean scratches the dog’s head, affectionately, before carefully getting to his feet.

“And that, Sammy, is why I’m her favorite.”

He can’t see him but he can imagine his brother rolling his eyes.

Together, they cross the hospital parking lot to where the other love of his life, his Baby, stood parked and waiting for them, loyal, as always.

He was under meds so he’s not allowed to drive. It sucks.

Sam flashes him a look when they reach the car, his hand held out.

Dean sighs, resigned, and throws him the keys. “This is the last time,” he insists, knowing that it’s a lie.

Sam simply shakes his head and rolls his eyes. 

Dean opens the back door and Miracle happily hops in and settles down on the seat. He gave her one last head scratch before closing the door and sliding into the passenger side.

Reverently, he runs his hands all over the leather seat and the dusty dashboard.

“Hey, Sam.”

His brother slides into the driver’s seat. “Yeah?”

“Do you think if I died, Baby would have come with me?”

Sam snorts as he inserted the key. “Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. Cars don’t go to heaven.”

“Baby is special.”

“She’s still a car.”

“After all this time, Baby, he never appreciated you.”

Sam snorts as he turns the key to start the engine.

The beautiful rumbling sound of Baby coming to life is accompanied by a voice from the radio.

_“Carry on my wayward son… There’ll be peace when you are done… Lay your weary head to rest… Don’t you cry no more…”_

Dean grins as Sam pulls out of the parking lot and drives them home.

“Man, I love this song!”

Everything is going to be okay now. They will carry on. They will live.


End file.
